Bring Out The Secret Weapon
by Mina-chan AMD
Summary: When all hope is lost at Osgilith, Faramir has no choice but to bring out Gondor's secret weapon. Will they survive the day? Or will their weapon kill them all? Please R&R!
1. A Desperate Move

Discliamer: We do not own the Lord of the Rings. We do, however, own Gus the Gassy, who made hid debut appearance in **Chapter 5** of another story we have co-authored, called **The Downside to Being Steward**, which is also on this pen-name. **You don't have to read it** to understand this story but it may help to understand a little of Gus' background. We do not mean offense to people who experiences large amounts of flatulence.

**This story will be FOUR chapters long!**

* * *

As Faramir, the Captain of the Rangers of Ithilien, and more recently, the White Tower, looked around the city of Osgiliath, all that met his eyes was death, destruction, and more death. His small force of soldiers was being massacred by the much larger force of the orcs of Mordor.

"My Lord, we can't hold out much longer!" Yelled one of Faramir's advisors. "Will you have us retreat to Minas Tirith?"

"No." Faramir said, calmly.

The advisor looked at his captain, who was normally very rational in these situations. "Sir?" He asked.

"We will not retreat. At least not yet." Faramir responded in that creepy overly-calm voice of his.

"But we're being over-run! We can't hold out much longer!" The advisor argued.

Faramir turned his head to look his advisor straight in the eye. The advisor grew even more worried upon seeing a mad glint in his captain's eyes. "Bring out the Secret Weapon." He said in his still-calm voice.

"Sir! Surely you don't mean-" The advisor said fearfully.

Faramir held up a hand to silence the man. "I do." He said. "Send for Gusuvius Gastricus Odorio Bodorion Pooticus Garlicus Gludios Olfacior Obolere."

The advisor trembled, fearfully. "But, sir! That would be suicide!" He exclaimed.

"Boromir…" Faramir started.

"May he rest in peace!" exclaimed all of the fighting Gondorians, and a few who lay dying, in eerie unison.

"…would have done it." Faramir finished.

The advisor sighed. This wasn't the first time Faramir had said this since his brother's lamentable death. "Very well…" He said, seeing that Faramir was lost to reason. He turned to a sweating messenger. "Steve, I'm sorry. For the second time in your life, you must bear a message to Gus the Gassy." Steve the Sweaty, as many called him, gulped and sweated profusely. "Tell him to make haste to Osgiliath," the advisor finished.

With that, Steve the Sweaty ran off to his horse, Pete the Perspiring and the pair galloped off to Minas Tirith, leaving a trail of sweat behind.

Faramir then turned to his advisor once more. "Bring me our cook." He said.

"But, sir! We're in the middle of a battle!" Said the advisor as he beheaded an orc to emphasize his point. "This is no time to be thinking about your stomach!"

"That's not what I want him for." Faramir said and then grunted as he parried a stab from an orc's sword and then stabbed the creature. "I need…" He paused. "… the 'Swordsman's Diet'." He said in a dramatic way.

"Oh, sir! We will not survive this!" the advisor cried in despair.

Faramir ignored this comment and as he continued to fight, he said, "Tell the cook to make all of the beans, cheese, onions, and garlic that he can."

A man grunted as he died.

"Oh, geez! That was the cook!" Faramir moaned as he killed the orc who had killed the cook. He then straightened up. "It's up to me, then! The fate of Gondor, and possibly of all Middle-Earth, rests in my culinary skills!" Faramir went off to find the stash of food that the now-deceased cook had hidden.

* * *

A pot of the food that made up the 'Swordsman's Diet' now lay simmering nearby Faramir.

Faramir then pulled out an old, used, and well-worn gas-mask. He stared at it in remembrance of its previous wearer, Boromir.

"Oh, brother!" He cried. "I wish you could be here, wearing this in my stead!" With that said, Faramir put on the gas mask in preparation to meet Gus the Gassy.

"Men of Gondor! Show your courage! Put on your gas-masks and prepare yourselves! They will not breach Osgiliath!" Faramir yelled in an attempt to rally the men. "It's what Boromir…"

"May he rest in peace!" exclaimed all of the fighting Gondorians, and a few who lay dying, in eerie unison.

"…would have done." Faramir finished. "FOR BOROMIR!" He cried.

"MAY HE REST IN PEACE!" all of the fighting Gondorians, and a few who lay dying, cried in eerie unison. All of them then put on their gas-masks.

At this point, they heard a horse's whinny and then the passing of wind in time to the footsteps of a man. Gus the Gassy, and his noble steed, Stu the Stinky, had arrived.

Gus walked up to Faramir. "Hey, Boromir." He said, not realizing that this was Faramir and that Boromir was actually floating somewhere in the middle of a river right now, deceased. "I see you still wear that gas-mask everywhere. You know, you don't need to wear that in battle. Orcs really don't smell that bad."

At this point, Faramir interrupted the senile ex-instructor of Boromir. "It's Faramir." He said. "And Boromir's dead."

"Dead!" Gus exclaimed. "How! When!"

Faramir sighed. This reminded him way too much of his conversation with Frodo. "He was killed by orcs."

"Well, if he had just followed my advice and followed my 'Swordsman's Diet' that wouldn't have happened!" Gus exclaimed and let a wind fly. The orcs surrounding the two of them fell to the ground, dead.

"Never mind that now, Gus." Faramir said, "Right now, I need you to eat this." He gestured to the pot of the 'Swordsman's Diet'

Gus smiled and passed wind. "Ah, the good ol' 'Swordsman's Diet'. You know, Faramir, there's still hope for you. Join me!" He said as he started to eat the contents of the pot.

Faramir looked revolted at the thought of dining with Gus and becoming Faramir the Flatulent. "I'll pass." He said, feeling the sting of the irony in his words.

Faramir joined his valiantly fighting men on the wall. "Come on, men! Have heart! Soon, this will all be over! Just hope that your gas-masks hold!"

Gus had finally finished eating.

"Gus!" Faramir cried. "Just like in the days of old, raise your mighty blade and send these orcs back into the foul abyss from whence they came!"

"Right! Coming!" Gus said as he ran up to join Faramir at the front of the line.

"Would you like do the honors of telling the men to charge, Gus?" Faramir asked.

"Of course!" Gus lifted up his arm, sending up a foul stench that killed many-an-orc nearby. "CHARGE!" Gus cried. At the same time, he ripped a big one.

* * *

Meanwhile at Minas Tirith…

Denethor stood in the city's gardens that overlooked Pelennor Fields and Osgiliath in the distance. At once, he heard a distant cry of, "CHARGE!" Then, he heard something akin to the Horn of Gondor being blown.

"MY SON!" He cried. "YOU HAVE RETURNED TO ME!"

Only then did the foul stench reach Denethor's nostrils, killing off all of the garden's lovely flowers. The Steward gagged and staggered at the stench and then he succumbed to it and fell to the ground, unconscious.

* * *

And back at Osgiliath…

All of the orcs assailing the city fell to the ground, dead. The men who had survived, for some had not properly put on their gas-masks, cheered at the magnificent victory. Then, over their cheers, they heard a noise. A noise that could only belong to one creature.

"NAZGUL!" Faramir cried. The men clapped their hands to their ears and began to wail as all of the nine Nazgul approached on their winged beasts. "GUS! TAKE THEM DOWN! RAISE YOUR ARMS!"

"Well," said Gus, "I don't know what good that'll do, but, okay…" Gus raised his arms in the air and let it be filled with his foul bodily odor. Then, he ripped another big one.

"Fools!" Cried the King of the Nazgul, "No living man can slay the Nazgul!" He sniffed the air and then began to gag. "That's no man!" He cried to the others. "It is a smell! And that means it can-" Before he finished his sentence, the King of the Nazgul had been slain and fell off of his dead beast, which was plummeting to the ground. The other Nazgul shortly followed suit.

Faramir suddenly began to gag. The smell was too much for the old and much abused gas-mask to hold back. Tears welled up in his eyes.

Gus noticed this and said, "I know that was quite a touching victory sir! Boromir…"

"May he rest in peace!" said all of the survivors of the battle and Gus' antics.

"… would be proud of you!" Gus finished.

Faramir started to feel light-headed. The gas was getting to him…

"Captain Faramir!" His advisor cried. "No!"

The advisor caught Faramir as he collapsed. To the unconscious Faramir, the advisor yelled, "Did I not tell you? Did I not say it was suicide? Oh, woe! Oh, misery! You must be taken away from this tainted place. You need fresh air!"

"Well, I don't see anything wrong with the air!" Gus said. "The problem is that gas-mask! Maybe if you took it off he-"

"No!" the advisor said. "That would _not_ help! I must hasten to Minas Tirith! You, Gus, shall remain here incase Sauron himself decides to show up."

Gus blinked. "Uh… okay…" He said. He let a small wind fly.

Faramir groaned as if to awaken, but then just fell limp with the new abominable stench. The advisor put him on a horse and they rode together to the city of Minas Tirith.

* * *

Mina and Nari: Please leave lots of reviews and tell us what you thought! 


	2. Of 'Mud' and 'Shaving Cream'

Disclaimer: See previous chapter.

* * *

Denethor, once he had regained consciousness saw a lone rider making haste to Minas Tirith from Osgiliath. He was riding hard and was at the gate of the city. It opened and let him in. The rider rode up the levels of the City and rode to the Steward's courtyard. Denethor, getting the feeling that he was needed, decided to leave the gardens to go to the courtyard.

When he got there, he saw Faramir's advisor, wearing a gas mask, dismount from a horse, holding a limp figure clad in armor and also wearing a gas-mask.

Denethor raised an eyebrow. "Who's that?" He asked. "You know, I don't give a Nazgul's toe clippings about some random injured soldier; just plop him in the Houses of Healing for all I care."

The advisor stared awkwardly at Denethor. "Um… I think you might, I mean, you should care about this one… I'm not sure if you actually will…" The limp figure began to stir as the advisor took off both of their gas-masks and started to walk towards Denethor, slipped in a mud puddle, and accidentally dropped him face-first into an even larger mud puddle. The limp figure grunted as he hit the ground and lapsed back into unconsciousness.

"Oh my!" cried the advisor and got up and went to the once-more limp man. Denethor stared blankly at the strange man's even stranger antics. The advisor beckoned for Denethor to come over by him as he flipped the mud-soaked man over onto his back, drenching his back in mud as well.

Denethor sighed; clearly this man was off his rocker. He then began to make his way towards the advisor and the unconscious man. When Denethor got there, the advisor wiped the mud from the unconscious man's face.

Denethor's mouth dropped and he fell to his knees. Then, he let out a cry of, "My son! He is dead! My sons are spent! My line has ended!"

The limp man, now identified by Denethor as Faramir, groaned and opened his eyes. Then, he said, "What are you talking about, Father? I'm still alive!" Faramir sat up and groaned. "My head… oh…" He rubbed his head. Then, he sputtered as he noticed the foul taste in his mouth. "Ugh! What got into my mouth? Did I fall into the sewers of Osgiliath?"

"Uh… sir," the advisor started, nervously, "I slipped into a mud puddle, causing me to drop you into a larger puddle of mud."

Gandalf was passing by when he heard this. "Oh," he said, "that larger pile of mud wasn't really mud. That was courtesy of Shadowfax. Gus fed him the 'Swordsman's Diet'."

Everyone stared at Gandalf to digest this information. Then, Faramir spoke up, "You mean to tell me that I fell in a pile of sh-"

"SHAVING CREAM! BE NICE AND CLEAN! SHAVE EVERY DAY AND YOU'LL ALWAYS LOOK KEEN!" Pippin sang loudly as he walked through the courtyard.

(A/N: This is a part of the lyrics from the song called, "Shaving Cream" by "Gruesome Three". Go look it up if you want to.)

"Yes, Faramir," Gandalf replied, "you fell into a pile of sh-"

"SHAVING CREAM! BE NICE AND CLEAN! SHAVE EVERY DAY AND YOU'LL ALWAYS LOOK KEEN!" Pippin sang loudly.

Faramir immediately began to sputter and got up. "I NEED SOAP AND HOT WATER!" He yelled and ran off.

Denethor blinked. "Well, that was certainly strange." He said to himself. Then, he turned to the advisor and said, "Did you achieve victory at Osgiliath?"

"Yes." He replied.

"How? I must know!"

"Faramir brought out our secret weapon."

Denethor gasped. "You don't mean _The_ Secret Weapon?"

"Yes." The advisor replied. "Gusuvius Gastricus Odorio Bodorion Pooticus Garlicus Gludios Olfacior Obolere."

"What madness possessed Faramir for him to go to those extremes?" Denethor queried. "He's supposed to the one with the good head on his shoulders!"

The advisor shrugged. "He said that it is what Boromir…"

"MAY HE REST IN PEACE!" Everyone in Minas Tirith shouted.

"… would have done." The advisor finished. "He even gave Gus the 'Swordsman's Diet'."

"Then he must have truly been mad." Denethor commented. "And he calls me crazy!"

* * *

Mina and Nari: Please leave lots of reviews and there are still **TWO** more chapters left! 


	3. What do you mean no battle?

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

* * *

Meanwhile in Pelennor Fields… 

The Rohirrim sounded their horns in response to Gondor's cry for help. As they rode up the hill, anticipating the sight of a large, bloody battle-scene before them, their mouths dropped open.

"What the…?" King Theoden said. "I thought that this was supposed to be an emergency!"

"Well, it appears to be a false alarm…" Éomer commented.

"Maybe we're just early…" Theoden mused.

"Perhaps we should go to the city and see what's wrong." Éomer suggested.

Éowyn, in her disguise, cursed loudly. She had really been looking forward to a bloody, and possibly life-threatening, battle.

"Very well…" Theoden said. "Rohirrim, we ride to Minas Tirith!"

Éomer sniffed the air and gagged. "What a stench!" He commented. "And the Gondorians call us savages!"

* * *

At the Anduin River… 

"Well," Aragorn said, "we're finally here!"

Legolas cheered. Gimli would have, but, he was busy at the side of the boat loosing the contents of his stomach and muttering about how much he despised sailing.

Aragorn and Legolas gracefully leaped out of the boat. Gimli fell out and hit his head on a rock. Luckily he was wearing his helmet. The Armies of the Dead followed and stood behind them.

The King of the Dead snorted. "I thought there was supposed to be a battle here!" He exclaimed, angrily. "Either that or the definition of 'battle' sure has changed since I was living."

Aragorn looked thoroughly perplexed. "There was supposed to be…"

"Maybe we're early!" Legolas, ever the optimist, said.

"… or we're too late…" Gimli, the pessimist, added on. Then, he sniffed the air and gagged. "It sure smells like a large army of orcs was here…"

Aragorn shrugged. Legolas spotted something in the far distance heading in the direction of Minas Tirith.

"Legolas, what do your elf-eyes see?" Aragorn queried.

Legolas gave a disdainful look at the man for a moment. Then, his gaze shifted back to the object. "It is the Rohirrim!" He cried. "They ride for Minas Tirith!"

"We will follow them!" Aragorn cried.

"You know," the King of the Dead said to Aragorn, "These hours still count as our service to you."

* * *

In Minas Tirith… 

After the gate guards had let in both the Rohirrim and Aragorn's posse Denethor took on the arduous task of greeting and explaining the situation.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN 'NO BATTLE!'?" Theoden exclaimed. "IF THERE WASN'T A BATTLE WHY'D YOU LIGHT THE STINKIN' BEACONS?"

Denethor cringed, but quickly calmed himself, silently cursing Faramir for using Gus so soon. "Well," he began, "there _was_ a battle. You have come too late to see it."

"Aha!" Cried Gimli. Then, to Legolas, he said, "I was right! Pay up!" He extended his hand. Legolas rolled his eyes at dwarf's immaturity and extended a hand with the payment they agreed to for the loser of the bet.

"But," Denethor continued, "the battle never reached Minas Tirith as we thought it would. In fact, it never got past Osgiliath, for that was the reason we lit the beacons. We feared the orc armies would overthrow Osgiliath and that they would attack Minas Tirith. So, technically, you're early for the battle that we summoned you for."

"Aha!" Cried Legolas and he revoked the hand containing his payment. "_I_ was right! Pay up!" He extended his hand. Gimli let out a loud, colorful oath and gave the elf the payment.

Theoden, whose face was still bright red with the fury of being summoned for no good reason, said, "And how did you manage to defeat this big army?"

At this point, Faramir strode up to the group. His hair was still wet from the five extremely long showers he had taken to wash off the taint of Shadowfax's 'present'. He had brushed his teeth twenty times. As he walked over to them, he air-dried his hair and it was apparent that he had just finished his final shower. In place of his armor, he wore the weather-beaten clothes he adorned when with the Rangers of Ithilien.

Aragorn, mistaking Faramir for Boromir, began to yell at the poor man in livid fury. "BORORMIR YOU **(censored) **DESERTER! HOW COULD YOU **(censored)** DO THAT TO US! HERE WE WERE THINKING YOU HAD **(censored)** DIED, MOURNING YOUR **(censored)** PASSING! YET HERE YOU ARE IN **(censored)** MINAS TIRITH TAKING A **(censored)** BATH!"

Faramir stared at this complete stranger in wide-eyed horror for a moment. Then, his eyes narrowed as he tried to control the livid hatred he felt for this man, whom he had never met before, who was badmouthing his brother. Then, in an eerily controlled and cold voice, he replied, "How dare you say that about my brother? He was never a deserter. He was a good man and he had had a good sense of honor. He would never do anything as preposterous that you so idiotically jumped to the conclusion of."

Aragorn's jaw dropped. "You mean… you're not Boromir?" He whispered in shock.

"No, genius," Faramir said, "I'm his brother, Faramir."

"Awkward." Legolas whispered.

"Oh…" Said Aragorn. He cleared his throat. "Well, then, I'm… um… sorry… uh… Your brother… he was a… um… good man… He died honorably…"

"Right…" Said Theoden to Denethor. "So… back to my question… how did you manage to defeat an entire army of orcs that you were so sure would overrun you?"

Before Denethor could answer, Faramir stepped in. "It wasn't just an orc army. It was the Nazgul as well."

Theoden's mouth dropped. "How…?" He asked, dumbstruck.

A shadow of a smile crossed Faramir's lips. "As Captain of the Rangers of Ithilien and…" He took a deep swallow. "… Captain of the White Tower, and being the one in charge of the defenses of Osgiliath, I chose to bring out our secret weapon."

"Which is…?" Theoden prompted.

"Gusuvius Gastricus Odorio Bodorion Pooticus Garlicus Gludios Olfacior Obolere." Faramir replied, as if that would clarify everything.

"And what, may I ask, is a Gusuvius Gastricus Odorio Bodorion Pooticus Garlicus Gludios Olfacior Obolere?" Theoden asked.

"It's not a what, but a who." Faramir replied.

"Oh, just get to the point already, you numbskull!" Denethor snapped at his son. "I have some important Steward-related business to get back to!"

Faramir rolled his eyes at his father. "I love you too, Father." He said, sarcastically.

"What are you talking about? I don't love you!" Denethor said, clearly not knowning the meaning of 'sarcasm'.

"(cough)Hypocrit(cough)." Faramir's advisor coughed out.

Faramir now chose to continue. "Gusuvius Gastricus Odorio Bodorion Pooticus Garlicus Gludios Olfacior Obolere, also known as Gus the Gassy, is Gondor's 'mightiest swordsman'. I summoned him to Osgiliath in dire need."

"Why didn't you just have him there in the first place?" Theoden, not seeing the logic in the Gondorians' battle plan, said.

Faramir raised his eyebrows. "Well…" He began. "All weapons have their repercussions. And I'm afraid that this one has…" he closed his eyes and rubbed his temples, looking for a way to phrase this, "… severe ones… very severe ones…"

"Oh, is everyone going to be vague and mysterious today!" Gimli cried in vexation. "What is the man's problem?"

"He has gas." Faramir replied, giving Gimli the kind of blunt and direct response he desired.

"Gas?" Everyone who had not experienced the horror of Gus in action re-iterated in disbelief.

"Really bad gas." Faramir clarified.

"And BO." The advisor put in. "He has the worst BO."

"So the lad stank a bit." Gimli said, foolishly thinking that Gus the Gassy was a fit young man. "I don't see what the big deal is."

Faramir raised his eyebrows. "Would you like to meet him yourself, Master Dwarf? If you do, I would recommend having a gas-mask at hand."

"Very well!" Gimli said. "Bring the lad out!"

Faramir gulped, anticipating a visit from Gus. "Where's Steve the Sweaty?" He asked.

Steve the Sweaty appeared. "Yes, sir?" He said, sweating profusely.

"I thought we were meeting Gus the Gassy!" Gimli said. "Who's this guy?"

"This is a messenger." Faramir replied. Then, to Steve, he said, "Go to Osgiliath, Steve."

Steve gulped and began to sweat harder. "Oh no, sir, surely you don't mean…?"

"Yes, I do." Faramir replied. "I'm sorry. Take this gas-mask and go fetch Gus. Tell him to come here to Minas Tirith." Faramir handed Steve the Sweaty a gas-mask and Steve departed on his faithful steed, Pete the Perspiring.

"Well, this is a great deal to make over one individual." Gimli said. "Seriously, it's just one man. How bad could it be?"

* * *

Gimli's face turned green as he started to retch from the smell. 

"Do you want that gas-mask now?" Faramir asked from beneath a brand-new gas-mask, offering Gimli one as well.

Gimli nodded and took the mask. Gus was still entering the first gate of the city, yet the stench was so strong that they could smell if from afar.

"Wait 'till he's standing next to you." Faramir said with a grim smile. Denethor twitched beneath his gas-mask.

They waited the next few moments in dreaded silence. Then, they began to hear the passing of wind in time to footsteps that heralded Gus' arrival.

"Make sure you're wearing your gas-masks correctly," Faramir warned the others. "I've lost many a good soldier from that."

Everyone fiddled with their gas-masks and made sure everything was perfect. At this point, a rotund, balding man walked up to them, passing wind in time to his steps.

"Hello, Gus!" Faramir said.

"Ah, hello, Faramir." Said Gus. "Do you wear that thing everywhere?" He pointed to the gas-mask.

Faramir nodded.

Gus then looked at the others. "What, is this a new fashion-trend? Should I wear one?"

Faramir snorted. "You could say that they benefit from wearing the masks." He said.

"Very well, then." Gus said. "So, why did you call me here?"

"These men wanted to meet Gondor's savior." Faramir told him.

Gus beamed and then ripped a big one. Denethor gave another twitch, remembering the days when he had to face Gus without a gas-mask, until he couldn't take it anymore and had more gas-masks made for any who had to encounter Gus.

"You're too kind, Faramir," Gus said, "It was your genius and tactics that won the battle."

"Oh no, Gus," Faramir replied, "Without you, Osgiliath would have been over-run and Gondor may have fallen!"

Gus blushed at the compliments. "Thank you," he said.

"No, Gus," Faramir said, "thank you."

At this point, Aragorn smacked his hand to his head. "Gah! We're such idiots! We forgot about Frodo! There's still that big army in Mordor that stands between him and the end of his quest! We should do something!"

"I have a plan." Said Faramir with a smile.

* * *

Mina and Nari: Please leave lots of reviews! 


	4. The Ballad of Gus the Gassy

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.

* * *

"Let the Lord of the Black Gate come forth!" Aragorn yelled at the tall, vacant Black Gate. He then waited for a few moments and then gave up, sighing. "Well," he said, "I tried."

According to Faramir's plan, they all had marched to the Black Gate, wearing gas-masks, taking Gus with them. They would then get Gus into Mordor and he would take care of the rest.

Just as Aragorn turned around to begin to head back, the Black Gate opened. Out came the Mouth of Sauron.

"I have a token I was bidden to show thee!" He said and threw a bunch of stuff belonging to Frodo on the ground. Then, he proceeded to trash-talk everyone there. As he trash-talked Aragorn, Gus ripped a big one and the Mouth of Sauron was no more.

After that, the Black Gate opened and tons of orcs spilled out.

"NOW, GUS!" Faramir yelled.

Gus smiled and 'tooted his horn'. Instantly, every single orc died.

"Wow," Aragorn said, "That's quite a secret weapon you got there!"

* * *

In Mount Doom…

"What are you waiting for!" Sam cried to Frodo. "Destroy it!"

Frodo held the Ring over the fires of Mount Doom. All he had to do now was let go. He, however, was just standing there looking at it, hypnotized by its shininess.

Frodo turned around to look at Sam and opened his mouth. Before he could speak, however, they heard a sound akin to the Horn of Gondor. Then, a foul stench filled the mountain and Frodo and Sam both gagged.

While he was gagging, Frodo let go of the Ring to cover his nose. The Ring began to plummet towards the fires of Mount Doom.

"PRECIOUS!" Cried Gollum and ran toward the slowly falling Ring. He foolishly jumped off of the crevice and caught the Ring. Yes, he now had his precious, but at what cost? Gollum fell into the lava with a sickening splat and hiss. Then, Mount Doom erupted. The Ring had been destroyed.

* * *

After the War of the Ring, a ballad was composed in honor of Middle Earth's greatest hero. No, it wasn't Frodo, nor Sam, nor Aragorn, nor Legolas, nor Gimli, nor Gandalf, nor Pippin, nor Merry, nor Denethor, nor Boromir, nor Theoden, not even Faramir. The hero was Gus the Gassy and the ballad was called, 'The Ballad of Gus the Gassy'. This is how it goes:

_At the battle of Osgilith  
__All was not faring well  
__Orcs over ran the place  
__And many a man fell._

_It was then that Captain Faramir  
__In very dire need  
__Turned to his advisor  
__And calmly said this indeed:_

"_Bring out the secret weapon,  
__Tell Steve to fetch Gus,  
__To tell him make haste to Osgilith  
__So that he may aid us."_

"_Oh sir we will not survive this!"  
__The shocked advisor said,  
_"_The stench will overpower us,  
__And leave the men all dead!"_

"_There is no choice,  
__The battle must be won.  
__Bringing out Gus is what  
__Boromir, my brother, would have done."_

_So Steve rode off on his noble steed,  
__And hastened to Minas Tirith with all speed.  
__Once there he found Gus the Gassy, and said,  
_"_Hasten to Osgilith, for they are in need."_

_Gus hopped on Stu the Stinky  
__And hastened with all speed  
__To the battle that was raging  
__Where they were in dire need._

"_Men of Gondor, put on your gas masks!  
__Hope they hold for here comes Gus!"  
__Captain Faramir shouted.  
_"_He comes at this hour to bring aid to us!"_

_There a pot lay simmering,  
__The Swordsman's Diet inside,  
__Beans and cheese and onions and garlic,  
__All this Gus ate while time they did bide._

_Captain Faramir walked to the front lines.  
_"_Hurry Gus and join me! Orcs are on their way!"  
__Gus hurried to the captain, and stood by his side.  
_"_On your cry of charge we attack, okay?"_

_Gus lifted up his arms.  
__And gave a mighty cry,  
_"_CHARGE!" he yelled,  
__And many an orc did die._

_Then a screech did they hear,  
__And looked up to the sky,  
__There were the Nazgul,  
__And all nine did fly._

"_NAZGUL!" cried the captain,  
_"_Gus bring them down!  
__Lift up your arms,  
__Protect this mighty town!"_

_Gus looked a little perplexed,  
__But none the less he complied,  
__He lifted up both arms,  
__Hoping all nine would die._

"_Fool you can not kill us!  
__No living man is able!  
__Oh no it is a smell!  
__The air is now unstable!"_

_All the Nazgul's beasts,  
__Fell out of the sky,  
__Then the Nazgul screamed,  
_"_We're all going to die!"_

_With a thud and a hiss,  
__They all hit the ground,  
__All of them did die,  
__Accompanied by another sound._

_Gus had let one loose,  
__The young captain did groan.  
__His gas mask was failing,  
__And he let out a moan._

"_My captain! My captain!"  
__His advisor cried.  
_"_Say not that you have fallen,  
__Say not that you have died!"_

_The advisor took his captain,  
__Up upon his steed,  
__It was then they rode to Minas Tirith,  
__To report on Gus' deed._

_When they rode into the courtyard,  
__Faramir's identity they could not deem,  
__For it was then that the advisor,  
__Dropped him in a pile of 'shaving cream'._

_The advisor rolled him over,  
__And Denethor gave a cry,  
_"_My son! Say not that he has fallen!  
__Say not that he did die!"_

_With that Faramir groaned,  
__He then sat up and said,  
_"_Oh my head does hurt!  
__And why do you think I'm dead?"_

_He then was revolted,  
__By the taste on his lips,  
__He questioned his advisor,  
_"_Oops, I dropped you in horse chips!"_

"_I need hot water and,  
__A shower or three!"  
__Faramir then shouted.  
_"_Advisor how could thee!"_

_While the captain was away,  
__King Aragorn then came,  
__Along with the King of Rohan,  
__Theoden was his name._

_Once their tales had been told,  
__They hastened to the Black Gate,  
__There dark deeds would unfold,  
__And the Swordman's Diet Gus ate._

_With one last mighty toot,  
__The rest of the orcs Gus slew,  
__It was then that the Ring was destroyed,  
__And victory they all knew._

_Hooray for Gus the Gassy,  
__The hero of us all,  
__With out his mighty horn,  
__Gondor would fall._

* * *

Mina and Nari: We hope you liked it! Please leave lots of reviews!

(Mina: I wrote the ballad with a little help from Nari.)


End file.
